


You were there, by my side

by JustAnnie



Series: Milnerson [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Liverpool F.C., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnnie/pseuds/JustAnnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Milner's first season at Liverpool and Jordan Henderson's first season as Liverpool-captain starts with hope, continues with major bumps on the road, and ends in heartbreak on the pitch. But together they make something out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You were there, by my side

**Author's Note:**

> For Anna. Because she's lovely and sweet (and today is her birthday), and because she inspired and encouraged me to write this. Also, I'm pretty sure at least half of this came from her. 
> 
> I tried to keep it as close to the right timeline as possible, but it's not unlikely I messed it up somewhere. Just think of it as a slight AU if that bothers you. ;) 
> 
> It was supposed to be a strict order of changing POV, every other moment/scene, but I know I messed it up at least once on the order. I hope it doesn’t get confusing. If it does, feel free to yell at me (actually, please don’t, I’d probably cry. But do point it out in a friendly constructive way)

There’s a light drizzle of rain in Liverpool the day James Milner starts his first day as a Liverpool-player. Jordan waits in his own car in the parking lot, having arrived early just to make sure he’d be there to introduce him to everyone. He has to stop himself from running over when James’ car pulls in, instead moving over to the door and waiting patiently. James’ smile is warm, betraying excitement and nerves as Jordan greets him with a tight hug. “Welcome,” he says, his own grin about as wide as it gets. Jordan can’t help but take pride in the simple fact that James is even here, walking next to him down the corridor to greet his new teammates. One of his first big tasks as the official Liverpool captain; convince James Milner to sign. Maybe it didn’t look like such a great feat from the outside. It wasn’t as if Jordan had to drag him over the fence, it was just a phone call, and a few texts. Jordan hadn’t even had to go through his rehearsed speech on the history of Liverpool FC and how special the fans were. James had interrupted him at the very beginning of it.

_“I know all that. What’s it really like?”_

_“It’s…it’s intense. From day one. Not everyone can deal with it. But if you do, it gets under your skin, you know?”_

He hadn’t been sure himself of what he was trying to say, unable to find the right words. James seemed to understand though, because it only took a couple days before Brendan called to tell him “ _great job, captain”_ , cause James Milner to Liverpool is as good as a done deal. And now here he is, introducing himself to Alberto Moreno in slightly awkward Spanish, which is all it takes for Alberto to hug him as if James had just told him he was his long lost dad finally returned.

“You didn’t mention all the hugging. Are you all like this?” Milly is smiling as he says it, the question barely out of his mouth before an excited Adam Lallana rushes at them, throwing his arms around both of them.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jordan chuckles, his hand still resting on Milly’s arm. He barely lets go of him as he introduces him to the rest of his teammates. A hand on his back to steer him around the dressing room. Grabbing his wrist to pull him along if he’s lingering too long with the English lads. Jordan is desperate for this to work. He needs it to.

 

——————————————————————

 

James blinks, trying to sit up but something, or someone, is holding him down. He lifts his head just enough to see Adam standing by the foot of the bed, his phone in his hand and a grin on his face as he looks back at him. The click of a camera phone, that’s what had woken him up.

“This is gonna be a hit on instagram,” Adam says with a low chuckle. James realises that what’s holding him down is Jordan’s arm over his chest. The warmth at his side is his captain practically wrapped around him. The light of the laptop screen at the bottom of the bed is hurting his eyes but he sees that it’s paused in the middle of an episode of _Suits_. He briefly remembers doing that, after Jordan fell asleep against his shoulder. It’s gotten dark out, but it’s still hot and humid, just the way pre-season always seems to be.

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters back at Adam, who just grins as he turns the air-condition on with the remote by his bed. “What time is it?”

Adam shows him his phone, James having to frown to be able to see it with the light still hurting his eyes. He should have been in bed over an hour ago. His own bed. He considers if as the new vice captain he should be telling Adam off for not being asleep yet, but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on in this case. And really, he doesn’t need his new team to think he actually _is_ boring. So instead he moves Jordan’s arm off his chest, carefully maneuvering the younger man’s upper body towards the pillow instead of leaning against himself.

“You’re free to stay, you know,” Adam comments as he watches him from his own bed, a hint of a smirk on his face. “He tends to sleep better if he’s curled up to someone anyway. He’s a real snuggle bug.”

“A what?” James frowns, slightly distracted by the tangle of legs he still has to get himself out of.

“A snuggle bug. His mum calls him that. It’s a thing. He only does it with a special few people though, so you should feel honoured.” Adam is chuckling again.

“Yeah, I’m truly blessed…” James mutters in reply, having freed one leg but the other is still trapped between Jordan’s knees. Even though he’s sleeping, he’s not letting go easy, his arm moving to grab onto James again. He manages to move himself away, expecting the sudden movement to wake Jordan up, but he’s grabbing onto the pillow instead, burying his face into it.

“Oh, he sleeps like a rock. You could have pushed him onto the floor and he’d probably keep sleeping.”

“You could have told me that sooner,” James huffs, pulling on his shirt to straighten it, grimacing as it sticks to his skin from sweat. The cold air from the AC makes him shiver slightly, and he moves a couple steps aside to get away from it.

“But that wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” Adam looks up at him with the most innocent smile he has, only earning a glare in return. “You know, he might get offended you left.”

James frowns, studying Adam’s face. He’s not entirely sure if he’s joking or not. He glances towards Jordan, struck for a moment by how young he looks in his sleep. It’s easy to forget sometimes, that he’s only 25 and already captain of Liverpool FC. In the back of his mind, James hears the echo of that phone call he’d gotten from Stevie not long after he’d signed. _“Take care of him for me, yeah?”_

He decides Adam is joking, wishes him good night and takes off. As he tries to go back to sleep he doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought that he was actually more comfortable in Jordan’s bed, with Jordan wrapped around him.

 

—————————————————————

 

“Didn’t think you were that kind of guy, Milly. Sneaking out while I’m asleep like that, after what we shared.” Jordan pouts, struggling to keep his face serious as James turns to look at him with eyes slightly wide. The dressing room is full of yawning footballers, everyone still struggling to get to grips with the different timezones and the choice of sleeping with or without the AC on. Jordan’s comment still catches a few ears though; some confused glances and one or two grins.

“Hey, I turned off the episode so you wouldn’t miss the ending. That’s gentlemanly enough for one day,” James counters, his eyes searching Jordan’s face as if trying to figure out just how serious he is or isn’t being. Jordan has to restrain himself from exchanging a gleeful look with Adam, who moves up next to him.

“I dunno, I think he deserves an apology,” Adam isn’t even trying to be serious, smirking instead. James narrows his eyes, glancing between them.

“Did you sneak out on him mid-snuggle?” “Oh, Milly, really?” “I think that needs an apology and a hug.”

A few of the lads join in, and it takes all of Jordan’s self-restraint to not burst out laughing at the look on James’ face. Finally he sighs, admitting defeat.

“Fine. I’m sorry, Hendo. It won’t happen again.”

Adam’s photo naturally makes it onto the group chat for the squad to see. But it never goes on instagram or anywhere else, Jordan makes sure of that. He saves it to his own phone though, for future blackmail purposes he tells himself.

 

——————————————————————

 

James tells a joke. It’s not a very good one, and he forgets it quickly, just like with most jokes he tells. But Jordan laughs, nearly doubled over as he leans against his side. James feels a swell of pride, not sure where it comes from, and it doesn’t matter that it’s early in the morning and Jordan is probably laughing cause he’s still tired, somewhere in the back of his mind James thinks that making Jordan laugh is one of the best parts of his day now.

 

————————————————————————

 

“Move. That’s my spot.”

“There’s space right there.” Jordan smiles as innocently as he can up at James, who narrows his eyes.

“It’s my sofa.”

“You’re so possessive. Besides, I’m your captain. You should be making sure I’m comfortable.”

Jordan knows he’s pushing it, but he can’t resist. It’s just so easy with James, winding him up, messing around. It always ends up with them laughing anyway, and really, that’s the whole point. He always likes it when he can make James laugh.

His vice captain simply watches him for several seconds, looking like he’s weighing up his options. Then he squeezes himself in between Jordan and the armrest, Jordan’s back against his side. They start the movie like that, both too stubborn to move. By the end of it they’ve managed to make themselves comfortable, James’ arm over the top of the sofa, Jordan still leaning against him, now with the back of his head against his chest, long legs splayed out the length of the sofa as James has to settle for the table as a footrest.

Jordan feels a surprising sense of disappointment when the end credits roll. It wasn’t a very good movie, James’ commentary aside. James gently nudges at him to move so he can get up, disappearing off to the bathroom. Jordan sits there, checking his watch and tempted to suggest another movie when James gets back, despite how late it is. Or an episode of _Suits_. Anything. He just really doesn’t want to go home.

 

————————————————————

 

Jordan winces as he turns to sit down, quickly trying to cover it up. But James has seen it, watching his face warily as he sits down next to him.

“You okay?” He asks, handing over a bottle of water. “Your heel hurting?”

Jordan shrugs it off. “Yeah, a little. It’s fine, getting better. How’s everyone handling the situation?”

James hesitates, taking a swig from his own water bottle as he tries to decide whether or not letting Jordan go into captain mode so quickly is a good thing, but he’s not likely to succeed with forcing him to talk.

“Not bad. I think everyone’s just excited now, to be honest.” James sits back, running a hand through his still wet hair from the shower, putting his feet up on the table, almost sighing in relief at being able to sit down. Training hadn’t been that tough in itself, but with everyone aiming to impress the new manager the intensity had increased a lot over the last few days. “A few of the lads a little worried probably, but if they don’t know how to use that they’re not gonna last long here anyway.”

Jordan nods, sighing a little louder than he seemed to have meant to as he instantly glanced towards James with a small smile. “Wish I could be out there with you all,” he offers as explanation, as if James needs one to understand what the young captain is going through.

“You will be soon.” James places his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. He means to move his hand away again quickly, but for some reason he doesn’t. Jordan doesn’t seem bothered by it, he’s actually leaning into the touch.

“You’re handling things just fine, though. Makes it easier, knowing the lads are in good hands.”

James clears his throat, looking away from the intensity in Jordan’s gaze. He’s not so sure himself. He never wanted this role, especially in his first season. He might have been signed for his experience, and he had been ready to be one of the senior players guiding the younger lads. But he’d never asked to be vice captain almost before he’d gotten both feet through the door. And he had certainly never asked for Jordan to be injured, leaving him to captain the side when he had barely learned his way around Melwood. He hadn’t been at his best yet, and he was painfully aware of it.

 

—————————————————————————

 

James’ goal against Norwich is quickly forgotten in the aftermath of the insanity that game ends up as. It’s all Klopp’s glasses and Adam taking his shirt off that gets joked about for days. He’s used to going unnoticed, for his teammates to get all the plaudits and shining moments. He doesn’t really mind, he never has. But James remembers Jordan sprinting towards him, beating everyone else to crash into him, throwing his arms around him. Still clinging to each other even as the other lads join in. Jordan’s strong arm around his waist keeping James in place tightly against himself. Jordan’s fingers digging into his skin through the red shirt. He doesn’t remember what Jordan said to him in the huddle, but he remembers his breath against his neck, Jordan’s lips brushing against his cheek. As he lies in bed that night he remembers it so vividly it’s almost as if Jordan is right there in his bedroom. As he falls asleep it feels like something big is shifting and he’s not sure what, or how. Just that it is.

 

——————————————————————

 

The sound of the television is soothing background noise, and Jordan is tired. It’s not unusual for him to fall asleep leaning against James like this, and it’s a long time since it felt awkward. James’ arm is behind his back, his chest rising and falling under Jordan’s head. Then his hand moves, long fingers moving through Jordan’s for once gel-free hair. Jordan freezes a little, his breath hitching as he waits for James to ruffle it up and tell him to _get up, it’s time to go home_. But his hand just stays there, his fingers continuing to gently brush through his hair. Jordan wants to open his eyes, turn his head and see what James’ face looks like. What he’s looking at. If he’s forgotten who it is he has lying practically in his lap and it’s just some kind of automatic reaction, or if he knows just who it is and is doing it on purpose. He wants it to be on purpose, that’s the feeling that surges through him. Mostly, he doesn’t want it to stop, so he doesn’t move. He doesn’t open his eyes. He just relaxes, the soothing movement soon lulling him into sleep.

 

—————————————————————————

 

James could have predicted himself laying awake and staring into the wall of his hotel room. He can never sleep after a big loss, especially after losing a final. And to his former club, just to make it even worse. He can hear movement from the other bed. At first just the normal tossing and turning that lets him know his captain is struggling to sleep as well. Then creaking that tells him Jordan is getting up. James stays quiet, pretending to be asleep as Jordan moves past his bed towards the bathroom. It’s oddly comforting to hear something other than silence, and he keeps his eyes open until after the sound of the toilet flushing and running water from the bathroom sink. Jordan is back in the room, bare feet padding across the carpeted floors as he moves back towards the beds. He stops though, and there’s no sound of the bed creaking. James is tempted to turn around, but that would give him away.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Yeah, so are you,” James mumbles grumpily in reply, annoyed to have been found out. He still doesn’t move, keeping his back towards Jordan.

He feels more than hears Jordan moving closer. “Scoot, grumpy.”

“What?” James turns towards him a little, frowning as he tries to make out his teammate in the dark.

“Move over. Make space.”

James sighs, having a feeling of where this is going. “Are you serious…” but he hasn’t even finished asking before Jordan has sat down on his bed, gently nudging him. James knows there’s no point objecting so he does move, turning around again so he has his back to Jordan. Jordan is lying down next to him, pulling on the covers and moving as close as possible. Then his arms are engulfing him, Jordan’s breath against the back of his neck and his hair.

“You know, Vinny never did this,” James grumbles. He’s certain Jordan is laughing softly against his neck. Mostly he just feels his breath tickling his skin.

“Maybe if he had you’d have stayed.” Jordan pauses for a moment. “You regretting your choice now?” His tone of voice makes it sound like a joke, but James has a feeling he’s not simply asking if he minds being spooned by his captain.

“No. No, I’m not,” he answers honestly. Jordan doesn’t say anything, but James can feel him squeezing a little tighter, moving a little closer, Jordan’s longer body practically cocooning his. Jordan’s hand is resting against his chest, and without really thinking about it, James moves his hand on top of his, their fingers lacing together. He’s used to Jordan’s fondness for snuggling by now, but this is more intimate than anything before. He thinks he should feel more awkward or uncomfortable, but he really doesn’t mind.

“You did good today,” Jordan’s voice is soft, and he’s so close James can feel his lips moving against his skin. “We held them until the end, even though they’re a better more settled team…”

“If you say _‘we go again’_ , I’m gonna scream. Don’t give me the captain talk.” James’ voice isn’t harsh, but more pleading. “I know how it goes. I’ve been giving it myself all day.”

Jordan goes quiet, and James feels bad. He’s feeling it to, the helplessness of standing there after a loss, seeing the heartbreak on teammates’ faces and knowing it’s down to you to pick them up. Feeling inadequate cause their teammates missed and they didn’t even get a chance to step up, and maybe if they’d insisted on going first when the manager told them the order…those thoughts have been going through his mind since that final penalty went in. And James is only vice captain, not even a full season at the club. Jordan must have it ten times worse.

“I know you have,” Jordan says finally, exhaling breath so James can feel it warm against his neck again. “I couldn’t have handled it alone. Thanks.”

James smiles wryly to himself. “It’s what I’m here for.”

 

—————————————————————————

 

Jordan is given strong painkillers for his knee, so he’ll be able to sleep properly. He’ll need that, if they want to start recovery as soon as possible. Jordan just nods as they tell him all this, most of the details escaping him. All he wants to do is get home, turn off his phone and maybe cry. It’s all he’s wanted to do since he saw the look on the doc’s face and realised it was bad. Really bad. Not just end of his season-bad, but potentially all of pre-season and the beginning of next season. Beyond that he doesn’t even want to think. He wants to get away from them all, the worried glances and sympathetic smiles. All the “ _you don’t know how bad it is yet_ ” comments. He definitely can’t handle the look on Lucas’ face, and the hug he gets from him almost sets them both crying, avoiding each other’s eyes as Lucas mumbles something about how it’s going to be okay and then he’s off.

James though, he’s not doing any of that. After insisting he’ll get Jordan home once they land back in Liverpool, he stays by his side, getting all the instructions from the medical staff and writing down notes on what they’re saying. What angle he should keep his leg at, how high it should be, how many painkillers he should take and at what times. Jordan can’t focus on any of it, and thanks to James he doesn’t have to. He sits in the backseat on the way home to keep his leg up, and they don’t talk. He can see James glance at him in the mirror a few times though, but he keeps his own eyes firmly looking out the window.

James cooks for him. Which is a miracle in itself, especially that it’s not steak. But it doesn’t really cheer Jordan up. James keeps prodding him to talk, but they eat mostly in silence. He doesn’t even pay attention to the pasta he’s eating, and leaves half of it behind. The painkillers make him feel a little queasy, and his head is drowsy already.

“Are you planning to be a moody bastard for the rest of the night to?” James asks after Jordan shoves the plate away from himself, falling back in his chair with a sigh. Jordan narrows his eyes at him.

“Might as well be. For all I know my career is over.”

A shadow passes over Milly’s face, but he leans forward, looking straight at Jordan who has no choice but to look back.

“It’s not. That’s ridiculous, no one has even suggested it’s that bad.”

Jordan looks away, moving for his crutches but knocks one of them over instead. In frustration he kicks out at the chair next to his with his good leg, and it topples over. James sighs deeply as he gets up from his seat.

“Great idea, Jord. Take out your other leg as well.” He picks up the crutches, holding them for Jordan as he stands up. Once Jordan is steady, James picks up the chair and puts it back where it was. “Go get comfortable on the sofa and I’ll clear the table. We can watch a movie or something.”

“I don’t need you hanging around…” Jordan can’t help the irritation in his voice, though he instantly feels guilty when he sees a flash of hurt cross James’ face. His expression hardens quickly though.

“Tough luck. I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t been home with my things yet, and I’m crashing in your spare room tonight. And no, that’s not a suggestion. I’m not letting you stumble up and down the stairs on crutches, not with these painkillers they’ve given you.”

Jordan stares back at him, seeing the same determined look he sees when James gets ready for a game. Focused, ready to battle if he needs to. There’s no point arguing, and he’s too tired to. “Fine. Do what you want.”

———————————————————————————

Exhaustion and the painkillers take the edge off Jordan’s mood. After the patient almost falls asleep on the sofa, James orders him to bed and walks behind him up the stairs, ready in case he misses a step or slips. Jordan sits on the edge of the bed, watching him fuss as he explains that the painkillers and water on the nightstand are for if he wakes up in the middle of the night in pain. He’s in the middle of explaining what position he should be in with his leg when Jordan sighs.

“You gonna help me undress to, Milly?” he asks, a hint of bitterness in his voice. James is relieved he’s already dimmed the lights down in Jordan’s bedroom, cause he’s not sure how to explain the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“I’m just trying to help,” he says, moving to turn away. Jordan reaches out, grabbing his hand to keep him from walking away.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

James stops, studying Jordan’s face as the agitated look he’s been wearing all day fades. Jordan doesn’t let go of his hand though, his eyes zoning out a little, like he’s deep in thought or maybe too tired to think. James can feel Jordan’s thumb move gently over the tender skin on his wrist. He’s not sure if Jordan even knows what he’s doing, and instead of moving away he stays perfectly still, not wanting him to stop.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be captain…” Jordan’s voice is so soft that it takes James a moment to decipher what he’s said.

“What?” James frowns. Jordan looks up, as if slightly startled by the fact that he’s still there. His gaze moves to their hands, and James gets ready for Jordan to yank his hand away, but he does nothing. He doesn’t even stop rubbing his thumb over James’ skin. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. If it’s bad. Really bad. I shouldn’t be captain anymore. You should be captain anyway. You’re good at it. You know what you’re doing.” Jordan’s words are slightly slurred, the defeated look on his face making James’ heart drop.

“ _You_ know what you’re doing, and _you’re_ good at it,” he says softly, moving his hand out of Jordan’s grasp. He helps Jordan get into bed properly, while moving his knee as little as possible. “And it’s not going to be that bad. You’re just being a drama queen.”

“And you’re being a mama bear.” Jordan starts giggling at his own comeback, and James can’t help but smile as he shakes his head.

“I just want you to be okay,” he mumbles it more to himself, not really expecting Jordan to hear it. But the giggling stops, and Jordan is looking at him funny.

“Then stay with me.”

James frowns. “I am, I already told you. Your guest room is right down the hall…” maybe the painkillers are making him forgetful, James wants to make sure Jordan knows he’s nearby.

“No, I mean…here.” Jordan’s arm moves out to his side, patting the mattress next to him a couple times. James freezes. It’s not as if he hasn’t shared a bed with Jordan before, or fallen asleep next to him. Between pre-season and away trips and lost finals he’s slept next to Jordan more times than he can count. Not to mention all those times dozing off in front of the telly. But this isn’t a hotel bed or a sofa, this is Jordan’s own bed in his own private bedroom that James hasn’t even stepped foot into before today. The prospect of falling asleep next to him there seems so much more private, intimate. Maybe Jordan doesn’t see it the same way. James isn’t sure, he can’t read his expression.

Five minutes later he’s crawling into Jordan’s bed, keeping a safe distance from his captain. Jordan looks like he’s fallen asleep while he was in the bathroom, so he turns out the lights and tries to get comfortable. He soon hears movement as Jordan tries to adjust his position, followed by a heavy sigh.

“Milly?” His voice sounds small, halfway pleading.

“Yeah?” James turns towards him, trying to make him out in the dark.

“I have to stay like this, with my knee…”

“Yeah…so?” James has a feeling he knows where this is going, and for some reason his heart is beating a little faster.

“So you have to be the big spoon.”

He can almost hear the teasing smile on Jordan’s voice. “Why does anyone have to be the big spoon?”

“Cause I’m injured and sad.” Jordan’s voice goes even more pleading, and although James knows he’s doing it on purpose he can’t help it tugging on his heartstrings.

“Fine,” he grumbles, scooting closer and removing the distance between them. James hesitates before putting his arm around Jordan’s waist, his body pressed against Jordan’s side as he adjusts the pillows. Instantly Jordan moves his head towards him, burying his face against James’ neck. James lays tense for a moment, Jordan’s breath warm against his skin, his hair tickling against his cheek, nose and lips. Jordan’s chest is rising and falling under his arm, more and more steadily with every breath. It doesn’t take long before Jordan is drifting off, James can tell from the way his head falls heavier against him. Almost instinctively he presses a kiss against the top of his forehead, instantly wondering why he just did that. He’s too tired to think about it though, his own breathing starting to mimic Jordan’s.

 

———————————————————————————

 

Jordan is shaken awake by the team doctor, Andrew. He was in the middle of a dream where he was back in his own bed instead of an uncomfortable chair waiting for his results, surrounded by home and comfort and _Milly_. He realises he’s blushing and avoids looking anyone in the eyes for a couple minutes while the grogginess fades, and with it the details of the dream. Once he has the results and Andrew is calling the club to let them know the news aren’t nearly as bad as feared, Jordan gets his own phone out. James is the first one he texts to let him know. Because he’s his vice captain. But also because he knows James is a lot more worried than he’d let Jordan see. Just when he’s done texting everyone else - his parents, Adam, Lucas, Stevie - his phone rings, his screen showing Milly on the display. Jordan is smiling even before he accepts the call.

“Told you it wasn’t that bad,” is the first thing he says, not even a hello, and Jordan laughs. Somehow just the sound of his voice is soothing.

 

—————————————————————————

 

The sound erupting from inside the players’ lounge when the door opens disturbs the silence where James is sitting in the executive box, staring at an empty Anfield. He knows instantly that it’s Jordan. You can’t really sneak up on people on crutches. With neither of them saying a word, James moves a seat in so Jordan can sit down next to him, leg stretched out to the side. They sit there in silence, James’ gaze moving towards the Kop end. It’s so quiet now. Once the door had closed again, there is just the wind left to disturb the air. Elation fading away, leaving exhaustion to move all the way to his bones after that game. He’s still trying to get his head around the fact that it actually even happened, that they could come back like that. He can almost hear the crowd in his mind still, the roar. The singing. The chanting. The eruption of pure uninhibited joy. He glances up, realising that Jordan is watching him with a warm smile on his face.

“What?”

“It’s under your skin now, isn’t it?”

James frowns in confusion, but only for a short moment before he remembers Jordan’s words to him before he joined. _It gets under your skin_.

“I guess you were right about that.”

Jordan places his hand on his back, just between his shoulder blades. It’s a light touch, but it still sends a shiver down his spine. Maybe there’s more than one thing getting under his skin since he came here.

 

——————————————————

 

Jordan is sitting ready to glare at James when he walks in. James stops in his tracks, watching him with raised eyebrows. For a moment it’s a staring contest, the teammates around them glancing at each other as they wonder what’s going on.

“You saw the interview then.” It’s a simple statement as James gives it up, sitting down across from them.

Adam makes a small “ahh” sound as he realises what it’s about, leaning in to whisper something to Daniel Sturridge and Danny Ings. James ignores them, watching Jordan with an expression that’s both wary and amused.

“Yeah…I’m considering which would make me look a bigger tit, lifting a trophy in a suit, or following JT’s footsteps and change into the full kit even if I’m not playing.”

James chuckles, taking a bite of his food as he shrugs. “Up to you, mate.”

Jordan narrows his eyes further. “If we win it and I’m not playing, you’re lifting the trophy. That’s final.”

“I’m not captain, you are.”

“Not if I’m not playing.”

“You’re always captain. Besides, it’s not just the one game. You’ve been leading us all season.”

Jordan can feel his cheeks heating up, glancing towards the amused grin on Adam’s face as he leans his head in his hands, watching them as if they’re putting on a show. Daniel looks slightly more bemused, leaning back in his chair. Jordan wants to shoot back that he hasn’t been much of a leader, spending most of his time injured or struggling to find form when he hasn’t been. He wants to yell at James that he’s been the one taking on a much bigger burden than he was ever supposed to when he signed, that he’s earned the right to take the reward to. If they get the reward.

“Maybe you could lift it together,” Adam suggests in a hope of meeting halfway. Jordan wants to point out that he’d still look like a tit, but Daniel beats him to it.

“Or maybe you could have this discussion if we actually win it?” he says, a slight warning in his voice. Jordan nods, but sends James a look anyway. James only smiles back, and Jordan tries not to feel how his heart skip a beat. If they win it…

 

——————————————————————

 

The whistle goes, and it takes every ounce of strength left in James to not fall to the ground. The roar from the Sevilla fans and players becomes more and more distant as he starts to shut it out. He’s learned to deal with disappointment and heartbreak, but that doesn’t stop the tears this time. He angrily wipes them away, knowing he has to get himself under control before he can face any of his teammates. The armband feels really tight around his arm suddenly, and he glances up to see Lucas in front of him. His face shows the same hurt, but he’s keeping it under control, giving James a sympathetic look as he steps closer. James wants to rip the armband off and throw it at him. Tell him to take it, that it should have been him having it all along when Jordan was out. Lucas gives him a quick hug, saying something in his ear that James only nods to, but the words don’t register. Seconds later Klopp is there.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes searching his face. James nods, straightening himself up. Luckily his manager settles for a quick hug, that James can only halfway bring himself to return.

Once his towering figure disappears, Jordan appears behind him. James stares at him, shaking his head as Jordan steps closer. He can’t take a hug from him, there’s no way he’ll manage to pull himself together once that happens. Jordan gives him a slight nod in response and keeps walking, settling for a quick squeeze of his shoulder instead. If he’s honest though, all he wants is to fall into Jordan’s arms and stay there, crying his eyes out. _You’re a grown man, behave like one_ , he chides himself as he puts his hand to his face again, wiping away what he decides are the last tears. He lets his eyes roam along the men in red, deciding that Daniel is his first destination. There’s no need to go over in his mind what to say, the cliches and uplifting words. He knows them all by heart now.

 

————————————————————————

 

Jordan can see James in front of the window, a dark shape against the light coming in from the street. He should reach out, ask him if he’s okay, if he can do anything. He’s been feeling completely helpless all day, stuck on the sidelines while everything fell apart on the pitch. No matter how many consoling hugs he’s handed out, it didn’t help him feel any more useful. All their faces keep going on repeat through his mind when he tries to sleep, but he keeps lingering on James. James Milner crying. Then pulling himself back together and doing his best to comfort everyone else. Jordan’s gaze moves along his broad shoulders, lingers on his face as he tries to make out his expression in the dim light. When James turns around he shuts his eyes tightly, not wanting to be caught staring. He listens to the movement of James walking away from the window, waiting for the sound of him lying back down, or going to the bathroom, but there’s nothing. When he opens them again, James is standing in front of his bed instead.

“Milly?”

“Sorry. I just…I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, me neither…” Jordan sighs, as James takes another step closer. Jordan understands, he doesn’t have to say anything. He moves backwards towards the wall, making space in front of him. He’s expecting James to lie down with his back to him, but he faces him instead. Their faces are only inches apart as Jordan puts his arm around him.

“I’m sorry,” James mumbles another apology.

“I think we’ve established that I’m a snuggle bug enough times, no need to apologise for invading my personal space.” He can see the corners of James’ lips turning upwards just a little.

“I meant about the game.”

“If you’re trying to put all the blame on yourself, I will yell at you,” Jordan mumbles the words against James’ hair.

“Not all of it…” James sighs, the exhalation of breath tickling against Jordan’s neck. “I just couldn’t hold us together out there. You better stay injury-free next season. We need you.”

Jordan swallows, the softness in James’ voice making the words even heavier. “Yeah, I’ll try.” He pauses, tightening his grip on James just a little.

“It sucks when you’re injured.”

Jordan smiles wryly in the dark. “It really does. Would have been a lot worse without you though.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“Yes, you did. You did a lot.”

Maybe it’s the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through, or how sentimental they’re being, or how tired he is, that leads to Jordan placing his lips against James’ forehead in a soft kiss. Then another one against the bridge of his nose. He can still pass it off as just him being cuddly and emotional if he stops now, but James isn’t turning away. Instead he turns his face upwards, and their eyes meet in the dark. When he kisses him for a third time it’s lips against lips, and Jordan’s heart is racing. It doesn’t last long, and they’re just looking at each other again. James looks as much in disbelief as Jordan feels, and the seconds drag on. There’s still a lot of excuses he can make. Emotions taking over, loneliness, sleep-deprivation. But if he’s really honest with himself, he desperately wants to do that again.

That admission has barely started processing in his mind when James finally moves, closing the gap between them again. His hand is soon at the back of Jordan’s neck, long fingers moving into his hair, pulling him closer. Jordan’s fingers are grasping at James’ shirt, their bodies pressing together to get closer even though there’s no more air between them already. Part of him thinks he needs to stop and figure out what the hell is going on. But really, it feels like the pieces of a puzzle are finally falling together.

 

————————————————————————

 

It’s warm outside. At least for it being England it’s warm. In only a couple days they’re setting off to France, and the mix of nerves and excitement come off everyone in waves. James is calm though, he’s done this before. The terrace at the hotel is all theirs, and the lads have all taken advantage of being able to use it. He keeps a distance from the younger lads messing around, but makes note that some of them are only really just getting to know each other, and it seems to be going well. He’s already resigned himself to the fact that his role is going to be mainly off the pitch rather than on it, and making sure no one feels left out is his job. James turns away from it all now though, moving to the corner where he leans against the railing, looking out at the view.

It doesn’t take long before he feels a presence next to him, Jordan leaning against the railing by his side. He’s standing a lot closer than necessary, close enough that their arms are touching, side by side. Instantly the calm disappears, replaced with a quicker heartbeat and inner turmoil. Jordan simply being near him has that effect on him now. They didn’t really talk about it, after that night. They agreed it wasn’t the right time, that they’d try to figure it out after the Euros. But things had changed. Jordan was looking at him differently, and he was pretty sure he was looking back at him the same way.

“Guess what day it is today,” Jordan says with a smile, his eyes moving along James’ face.

“Do I have to?”

Jordan chuckles lightly. He’s slouched forward just enough so that they’re shoulder to shoulder instead of towering over him. “Exactly one year ago today, you signed for Liverpool.”

James’ eyes widen slightly. One year. Was that all? “Really?” His expression changes into a smirk. “You memorised the date I signed?”

Jordan shrugs, smiling a little sheepishly. “I looked it up a few days ago.” Their arms are still next to each other, but as Jordan glances behind them he moves his hand to cover James’, lacing their fingers together. Slightly nervous, James glances behind them to, realising most of their England teammates have disappeared back inside. The few left out there with them aren’t paying them any attention. So he squeezes Jordan’s hand back, reassured that no one will see it.

“Any regrets?” James is the one to ask that question this time, a teasing smile on his face as he looks back at Jordan. “You know, convincing me to sign.”

“No, I think that’s one of my better achievements.” Jordan grins, the sight making James feel a little weak at the knees. “You have any regrets?”

James eyes Jordan for a moment, once again with a feeling that his teasing tone of voice is more serious than he lets on. Whatever happens next won’t be easy, he knows that already. But there’s still no doubt in his mind when he answers. “No, absolutely not.”

**Author's Note:**

> They really like Suits. It's a thing. 
> 
> Milly did possibly cry after the EL final. There are photos. Yes, I’m sad to. I would link to them but that would require me looking at them again. 
> 
> I have basically no medical knowledge so any injury mentions are as vague as possible. Even then there's a good chance I'm way off.


End file.
